Via Positiva
A Poem by Sarah Tate
Birch trees grow in the glow of noon.
Early September, it’s dawn forever,
light springing like a matchstick.
I can smell dry wind, sage sometimes,
falling asleep to the drone of tractors.
The center of a solar system
is a boy and girl swaying
to the music of tonight’s final waltz.
Stars come close this time of year.
You wouldn’t believe
the ferocity, the utter chill,
as they bloom like white peonies.
Rusted engines, sun-cracked boards,
darkened halls of theaters,
skies of fierce Arizona fire—
I’m not old, but I know
the labor of being a total human.
The moon comes up over a barn
where fiddles and flutes play,
but I miss the most important thing
before everything grows still.
There, in the patience of cedars.
In the tender stillness of candlelight vigils.
In the poems we board like arks
to carry us into the dark:
echoes of another world.
Soft lamplight across the street,
hazy in rain—something like
what music whispers to us
when we’re still enough to listen.
Sarah Tate is a poet and writer from Partlow, Virginia, where she enjoys taking long walks by the trees and reading good books on the porch. Her work often meditates on the embodied world, eternal reflections, and the intersection between philosophy and ordinary life. She has been featured in Solum Literary Press, Ekstasis, Amethyst Review, Calla Press, and elsewhere. Find more of her work at: https://state2151.wixsite.com/professional-website.
